Irriversably Broken
by Prosper-the-XVIII
Summary: A missing scene from Die Another Day. James returns to London for a debriefing and finds M sticking her nose where perhaps it doesn't belong. But it's not for the reasons he thinks. Could the machine of a woman that is the evil queen of numbers have something as human as secret fears? A past? Even scars?


**Also called 'Lacrimosa' or 'The Past is What Binds Us' - I don't know which I like better. Don't ask about this, I have a somewhat morbid obsession with torture and scars. Possible spoilers for Die Another Day, Pierce Bronson's Bond and Judi Dench's M. Not 00M as I don't think it works with those two, just mother/son slight angsty serious stuff with a light dusting of fluffiness. Slots in just after James takes that simulation test thingy in which he shoots holographic M.**

* * *

"First and foremost, James, I think I need to say-" M's voice broke a little as the words left her lips. She swallowed, and carried on. "I'm sorry."  
James smirked, leaning back and looking into his tumbler of scotch. "Now those are two words I never thought I'd hear you say consecutively. Well, not to me anyway."  
"James, I'm trying to be serious here. This isn't me just digging here, I honsetly want to know. What did they actually do to you? You know, in Korea?"  
He stayed silent, his eyes glazing over at the memory. Nothing would make him want to remember those long months, revelling in his own agony and watching his physical state decline day by day. Certain subjects with him were absolutely taboo. Korea was one of them.  
"James, listen to me and if possible have the decency to respond. This isn't an 'I'm typing up every syllable that leaves your lips' scenario. I just want to know. What did they actually do?"  
"A lot," James said simply, not letting his gaze drift to her steely blue eyes. "Can't remember everything. Why do you want to know, anyway? You're the one who gave up on me."  
"James, you know fine well that that was a stupid mistake. We all make them. And it makes it easier talking about it. Trust me, I know."  
"How would you know? It's not like you've ever been-"  
"I was a field agent for twenty-eight years, James. I've been in the Service since you were in nappies. I know what it feels like, and I know how to get over it."  
He stared at her, not yet meeting her gaze fully, his eyes still glassy and his jaw drooping a little.  
"You don't believe me," her tone was completely flat. He watched her fingers fly over the keyboard of her computer, then she turned the screen to face him. When he saw the name 'BONAHM-CARTER, EVELYN' at the top, he noticed straight off that it was her own file. She brought up a few photos, each as disgusting as the next. They were basically close-ups of several bone-deep gashes, and a woman's face. He looked from the only picture he could bare to look at for more that a split second, drinking in the features and face of the woman. That was when it hit him. The person in the photo had her eyes closed, several scratches down her face and three stitches in her bottom lip surrounded by a large black scab, and her hair was blonde, not the iron-grey of the person he thought her to be now, but it was certain.  
"That...That's you? Who the hell did that to you?"  
"To be fair, even I don't know now. But..." Her voice tailed off a little, and he watched her trace a line up her arm through the black material of her tailored blazer. "When they trained us, they made it perfectly clear that in joining MI6 we were making ourselves everyone's enemy. That we can - and at that almost definitely would be - tortured and ultimately killed. And they tried to prepare us; putting us through hell in any manner they saw fit. Being shot with training ammunition from point-blank range. High-voltage electric shocks. Forced sex. But they - the real ones, the ones who really want to hurt us - have methods that weren't very prominent in the Academy. That's what these are," M tapped one of the images onscreen with her fingernail, her face blank. "They cut so deep that I couldn't bleed too much too quickly, but it still destroyed nerves, arteries and god knows what else. But trust me, James, you come out the better person for all of it. Now after that I could be sent on just about anything; there was nothing left that they or anyone else could do to hurt me. It changes you. It hardens you."  
James was still transfixed by the pictures. He grimaced. "And I thought...that's barbaric. When was this?" He hadn't meant to sound as pushy as he had.  
"Japan, 1974. I was thirty-two at the time. You have to trust me on this, James. Once the pain's over, it can only get better. Both you and I have been broken once and I don't intend to let it happen again. To either of us."  
James half-smiled, not sure whether he wanted to hug M or slap her for trying to make out that she knew how he felt. But the proof was right in front of him, he thought. She had been. _God, stop feeling sorry for M!_  
"James, while we're on the subject, Q told me about your simulation results. I hope to god that that never happens, because with your aim, I'd be lucky to escape alive, especially since your idea of a flesh wound is when a bullet goes in but can still be considered so regardless of how deep it goes, just as long as it doesn't come out the other side."


End file.
